


Back to You

by WordsInTimeAndSpace



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsInTimeAndSpace/pseuds/WordsInTimeAndSpace
Summary: When the Doctor wakes up one morning, he feels like something is terribly wrong. He didn’t sleep without nightmares since that day at Canary Wharf - or did he? Unsure if he can trust his own memories, he has to figure out what happened to him in order to save the woman he thought he lost to a parallel world.





	Back to You

The Doctor wakes slowly. He drifts between sleep and consciousness for a while, his mind slow and sluggish, until he finally pushes past the drowsiness enough to form a coherent thought. The first thing he realizes is that something is terribly wrong. Waking up is a lot of things for him - sudden and abrupt, a relief that the nightmare that woke him wasn’t real and an excruciating pain that the reality isn’t much better - but it’s never slow like this. Not these days. Not without her.

Was he drugged? Injured and in a healing coma? Bracing himself for whatever he might see, the Doctor sits up with a start and opens his eyes.

To his surprise, he’s in his bedroom. Fully clothed, lying on top of the duvet. It tends to happen when he’s putting off sleep for far longer than his body allows. At some point, he just crashes. But these are the times when his nightmares are the worst. All the fire and chaos of the time war that’s still haunting him. That endless white wall separating him from everything he loves, that doesn’t budge even if he pounds his fists against it until they’re raw and bleeding.

This time, his mind is just empty. No nightmare still flashing in front of his eyes. His bloodstream is free of any drugs or toxins. There’s nothing that could explain this peculiar, dreamless sleep.

The Doctor grasps the sheets between his fingers, as if to confirm that this is actually real. Shaking his head, he tries to think, pushing past the last remains of drowsiness. He remembers now how he collapsed on the bed after a particularly bad adventure the night before. His internal clock tells him it was exactly eight hours and twelve minutes ago, but that’s not what it feels like. It feels like it’s been weeks. Months. A lifetime ago.

When he gets out of bed, he notices another thing that is wrong: the TARDIS is quiet. She’s still there, humming all around him, but they’re not moving. They should be drifting through the Vortex right now. The Doctor remembers how he steered them there, just before he made his way to his bedroom.

“Where are we, old girl?” he murmurs with a frown. His fingertips brush against the wall. There is no answer, except that the lights brighten for just a second. Slowly, as if the TARDIS is still waking up as well. None of this makes sense.

As quick as he can, the Doctor rushes to the console room. The TARDIS greets him there with a soft hum, as if everything is normal. It doesn’t help to calm his racing mind, doesn’t do anything against the feeling of wrongness nagging at him. Letting out a long breath, he braces himself against the console and runs a quick scan.

His shoulders slump when the coordinates pop up. The readings don’t tell him anything. He’s never been to this place before. Behind the doors lies a strange, unknown planet, and he has no idea why - and how - the TARDIS brought him there. The feeling of wrongness gets so overwhelming that he nearly pushes the next lever and takes the ship back to the Vortex. It’s more than just a hint now, it’s a constant tingling that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. The urge to get away from this place makes his fingers twitch.

But just as he grips the lever, ready to leave and never look back, his gaze falls onto a piece of red fabric draped over the back of the jump seat. He pauses. It looks so familiar, yet so out of place. His head is swimming as he crosses the room and picks it up. He’s sure there’s proof on it to confirm who it belongs to - a specific scent, a hair with DNA - but he doesn’t need it, because he just _knows_.

Rose.

He knows it belongs to Rose, although he doesn’t remember seeing this specific jacket before. The knowledge is just there, planted deep in his mind, and he doesn’t know why.

“Impossible,” he says through gritted teeth. She’s gone, locked away in a parallel universe. And still, that’s her jacket in his hand. He raises it to his face, presses his nose against the fabric and takes a deep breath. The scent is just _Rose_. There’s no question, no uncertainty.

It finally pulls the Doctor out of his stupor. Frantically, he dashes down the corridor, looking for more evidence.

There’s her favourite mug in the sink right next to his. One of these romance novels he always rolls his eyes at on the couch in the library, right next to a pink blanket. A bottle of nail polish on the table in front of the couch. More of her clothes, spread across the ship. In the wardrobe room, the kitchen and stars, his bedroom. For a minute he just stares in disbelief at the flimsy white top on his bedroom floor. His mind races with the possibilities of how it might have ended up there, but none of them seem realistic. Not even a tiny little bit. After this shock, he barely registers the sight of her toothbrush next to his in the ensuite. None of this feels real.

He slumps down right there and then, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His hands are still clutching the red jacket he found in the console room. One of the many things he doesn’t remember. One of the many things that are undeniable proof that Rose was on this ship. Not just months ago, like his memory is trying to tell him, but recently.

Letting out a shaking breath, the Doctor dives into his mind. He’s sure he wasn’t physically hurt. There has to be another hint of what might have happened. In the end, he doesn’t have to search for long. There are traces everywhere, how his mind has been manipulated. He carefully follows them, until he reaches a part in his mind that’s blocked off. It feels like he’s running against a wall. Behind that wall, he can sense his memories of the recent weeks. He can sense Rose. But there’s no way to get past the barrier. It doesn’t yield, no matter of hard he tries to push past it. Again, there’s a wall separating him from Rose, and it makes the Doctor’s blood boil.

Through all this doubt, all this confusion, there is now only one thing the Doctor knows for certain. Whoever manipulated his memories and made him forget Rose, he’s sure they are also the reason why she’s not here with him right now.

~~

Rose watches the sun rise on the bright blue sky behind the window. It’s the only source of light in the tiny room she’s been locked into for hours. As the sun rises, the dread turning her stomach to knots grows with every minute. At noon they’re gonna get her and take her off the planet, that’s what they told her. Hours ago already, with greedy eyes and cruel smiles. Plenty of time for the Doctor to save her - or so she thought. There’s still no trace of him. 

Again and again, she remembers the last thing she saw before they dragged her away: the Doctor crying out and sinking to the floor, his face pale, one of the alien’s tentacles pressed against his temple. Some kind of telepathic attack? She isn’t sure what exactly they did to him, but now that he’s still not there to save her, the worry that they actually managed to hurt him is overwhelming. Again, Rose struggles against the bonds pinning her arms to the armrests of the chair. Her skin is already chafed, her wrists aching, but it’s the only thing she can do. The only thing she could do for the past couple of hours.

She winces when one movement sends a sharp pain through her arm. Letting out a sigh, she stills and lets her head fall back. Did the restrains get any looser the last times she tried? She isn’t sure. It might be time to admit that she isn’t getting out of here on her own. Maybe she should just try to get some rest and take one last desperate attempt to escape when the ship is there that is going to take her away, to whatever man who paid her capturers a fortune for her. Her stomach twists just thinking about it. The anxiety coursing through her veins keeps her mind wide awake, no matter how tired her body is.

She flinches when there’s suddenly a dull thump outside the door. Is it already time? Holding her breath, Rose listens as someone fumbles with the lock until it springs open with a click. A moment later, the Doctor barges into the room. His face is a mix of fury and concern.

“Rose,” he breathes out, so relieved as if they were separated for months and not mere hours. The sheer desperation and longing in his voice makes Rose’s heart stutter in her chest.

“Hello,” she smiles, forgetting her aching and tired body for a second. She tries to wriggle her fingers in greeting, but it sends another sharp pain through her wrist. Immediately, the Doctor drops to his knees in front of her, aiming his buzzing sonic screwdriver at the ropes binding her to the chair. Rose lets out a breath of relief when she is finally free. Her arms ache from being in one position for so long, but that doesn’t stop her from wrapping them around the Doctor’s neck as soon as she stands up. She breathes in his scent as she buries her nose in the crook of his neck and smiles when she feels him return the embrace without hesitation.

“You found me,” Rose mumbles against his skin.

“Yep! Quite easy, actually. Plenty of biological signatures around, but only one human.”

“They… they said you wouldn’t come,” Rose says, her voice shaking. “They said they’re gonna make you forget that you were here with me. That you wouldn’t remember me and just leave.”

The Doctor doesn’t answer for a long moment. Instead, he simply holds her tighter. “I could never forget you, Rose Tyler,” he finally says, his voice quiet. His tone is confusing her. There’s something else, something he isn’t telling her, but the Doctor pulls back before she can question him.

“Now,” he says with a fake grin on his lips, grasping her hand. “Let’s get out of here before anyone notices I manipulated the security system, shall we?”

~~

Surprisingly, the way back to the TARDIS passes without any serious incidents and only a bit of running for their lives. Nevertheless, the Doctor lets out a sigh of relief as the doors finally fall shut behind them. They’re safe.

The Doctor immediately crosses the console room to send the ship back into the Vortex, away from this planet that nearly took Rose away from him a second time. Rose joins him at the console, leaning her shoulder against his. They always used to be affectionate, but somehow, this closeness feels different. Like it’s more intimate than it used to be. He can feel the warmth radiating off her body. Rose lets out a content sigh, snuggling even closer as she presses her nose against his upper arm. She wraps her arm around his waist without hesitation. As if that’s something she does every day. But that’s not what it feels like for him. The feeling is so new - and so _good_ \- that it makes his skin tingle and his breath hitch. He thinks back of the white top on his bedroom floor, of her toothbrush right next to his. The thought still makes his head swim. It fills him with thrill and excitement, but nevertheless, the Doctor starts to panic. There’s some essential part of their relationship that he’s missing. What if he messes things up now by being an absolutely clueless idiot? What if he’s just imagining things, with his brain still messed up by the telepathic attack of these aliens?

“Med bay!” the Doctor exclaims suddenly, jumping out of Rose’s embrace. “We should take care of your wrists first and get some fluids and nutrients into your body.” He reaches for Rose’s hand, trying hard to ignore the confused look on her face, and leads her down the corridor.

In the med bay, Rose quietly sits on the examination table while he fusses over her: running a quick blood test to see which nutrients she needs most urgently, mixing them together with a glass of water for her to drink, cleaning and disinfecting her chafed wrists, using the dermal regenerator - it’s all a welcomed distraction. He’s pleased to notice when Rose’s cheeks get a bit of colour back. Her gaze seems more alert with every sip of water she takes. Even her injuries are healed, although the new skin is still red. Rose winces slightly as she absently rubs her wrists.

“Does it still hurt?” the Doctor asks, concern back in his voice.

Rose shakes her head. “Not really. Just a bit sensitive.”

Dashing through the room, the Doctor rummages through a cabinet until he finds what he’s looking for. With a few broad steps he’s back at Rose’s side, standing between her legs. He holds up a small tube.

“Let me?” he asks softly and Rose nods, offering her wrists for him. The Doctor squeezes a good amount of salve out of the tube. Gently, careful not to hurt her, he rubs it into her skin. They’re so close again that the Doctor’s hearts begin to race, but Rose visibly relaxes under his touch, a content smile on her lips, and he simply can’t pull away. He’d do anything to see that smile and make her comfortable.

“All right?” he asks after several minutes of drawing small circles onto her skin.

“Yeah.” Rose looks up at him, tilting her head. She narrows her eyes. “And you?”

“Yep! Of course! Molto bene!” the Doctor lies with fake enthusiasm. If Rose sees through his fassade, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she grins and wraps her legs around his torso, bringing them closer together. The Doctor’s eyes go wide. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, Rose already pulls his head down for a kiss.

It’s pure bliss, the feeling of her lips on his. She’s soft and warm and everything he ever wanted. Her taste on his tongue makes his head spin and makes him crave for more, makes him want to rip her clothes off so that he can taste every bit of her skin. Overwhelmed with all the new sensations, the Doctor only realizes that he isn’t reciprocating when Rose pulls back all of a sudden. A whine leaves the Doctor’s throat.

Rose looks up at him with a frown, but all he can do is stare at her in wonder. The thought that their relationship progressed to a point that includes kissing is simply incredible.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asks in a tone that allows to further evasions.

The Doctor clears his throat and hesitantly takes a step back. “Sorry,” he eventually says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s, ah… the telepathic attack is still giving me a bit of trouble.”

For a moment, Rose looks confused. But then her eyes go wide and she clasps a hand over her mouth. “They were right,” she says, her voice shaking. “About what they told me. You did forget me.”

“No!” The Doctor grasps her hands, giving them a squeeze. “I couldn’t forget you. I still know who you are, Rose Tyler. It’s just… this.” He gestures between them, a little helplessly. “I don’t remember this. How our relationship changed. And how I got so lucky to get you back after you were trapped in Pete’s world.”

“Oh, Doctor.” Rose reaches out to him, cupping his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He turns his head to press a kiss to her palm. “I’m all right. I’m 99.3% certain that it’s only temporary. It’s a mental block that prevents me from remembering. Should dissolve on its own in a couple of hours.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I just didn’t want to worry you. I thought I would recover a bit more quickly.”

Rose bites her lip, looking uncertain. “Still. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“What? Oh!” The Doctor takes a step closer, leaning down to her. “No, no, I wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just a little… overwhelming. Unexpected. But good. Very, very good. Spectacular.”

A bright smile spreads on Rose’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” The Doctor grins. His eyes flicker down to her lips. The sight of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth makes his legs tremble. All he wants to do is kiss her again, properly this time, but he tries to hold back. Rose’s wellbeing is still the priority right now. With difficulty, he looks away from her lips and clears his throat. “We can gladly continue this, after we get some food into you.”

Rose rolls her eyes, but the Doctor barely has time to comprehend this. In the next moment, she’s already pulling his mouth back to hers. When their lips meet, all soft and wet and wonderful, the Doctor forgets he had any objections at all.


End file.
